The Whole Truth
by mustardgirl1128
Summary: Something untold in the HP books... Full summary on lalababee's account. Written by BOTH LALABABEE AND MUSTARDGIRL1128! On hiatus
1. Introductions

**A/N: This is an idea that lalababee came up with and allowed me to help her with! This is for you, Emily!**

**Just so you know, we're writing this together. So I write a chapter, she does, I do, etc. Enjoy! Posted on her account too!**

PROLOGUE I

Alright, well, I suppose this is where I introduce myself.

My name is Joanne.

I have a bit of a story to share with you before you'll _really_ know who I am…

I was eleven years old, and destined for a life full of odd moments and excitement…

Even at eleven, I was an attractor of the oddest things…and, more importantly, I _was_ one of those odd things…

I was really your average pre-teen...except I'd begun a book about magicians and someone named Voldemort; and most importantly, Harry Potter.

And then, if possible, I was made _less_ normal...I got a letter from the very school I was writing about. 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'.

When I saw the seal, I panicked. _But who could possibly know about my little project?_ I thought.

I went to Hogwarts, and every single thing I wrote in those books is true...but minus me. I should have been in those books, but how could I say that?

Now, here is the true story. The total, complete truth...including me.

PROLOGUE II--August 1st

"Jo, dear!"

"Mum?"

"Would you get the mail?"

"I'm writing, Mum!"

"And I'd like you to get the mail!"

"Yes, Mum…"

With a prolonged sigh, I stood up from my desk and stretched. I added the last word of the sentence and threw down my pen. Then I pushed in my chair and rushed downstairs, and outside.

Once obtaining the mail, I hurried back in and threw the mail haphazardly in front of my mother, who was baking. Then I ran for the stairs, longing to be in front of my novel again.

"Joanne!"

"What, Mum?" I asked with another sigh, turning around.

"Don't be like that, Jo."

"Like what?" I asked innocently.

Again, she barked at me my full name, and then added, "Don't you dare be so cheeky, Joanne Rowling!"

"Yes, Mum," I said, casting down my eyes. I then reached for the mail and flipped through it, reciting what each was. "Bills, bills, a Home and Garden magazine, something to do with the library--an overdue book, I think--a note for Daddy, something for 'The Parents of Diane Rowling', and--oh, God."

"What is it, Jo?" my mother had gone back to putting her pancakes into the oven, but she looked up quickly as I spoke.

"I--can I tell you later, Mum? I want to see this."

She smiled her knowing smile--she can get just about anything from me, if she wants to--and allowed me to leave the rest of the mail and run upstairs to my room, where I collapsed on the bed.

Then, immediately, I thought back…

_A little blonde toddler--about six-- is on the floor._

"_Jo? Where did you get to?" asks a woman's voice, presumably little Jo's mother._

_Jo is staring at her blocks, frustrated. She squints, and concentrates on the top one. She looks as though she'd like the next one to stack _itself_ on top of the rest of them…_

_Then, they _do_. The top one stacks _itself_. She rears back in surprise, upsetting the whole thing._

"_Mummy, I think I did something bad!" she says, running to her mother, fear in her tiny, young voice._

"_What? Run away from me?" her mother jokes, hoisting the girl to balance on her hip._

"_No, Mummy--I made that block stack itself."_

"_What?" shrieks 'Mummy', her eyes wide._

"_I--I don't know how…it just happened."_

"_Do it again, baby."_

"_I--I can't," says the girl, sheepish._

"_Oh, well, let's forget about it, then, Jo," her mother says, clearly thinking Jo is lying._

_The baby never forgets the incident…_

I wondered if that was why I'd begun to write about people with magical tendencies. Maybe me six-year-old mind had made it up.

But perhaps not, for the letter in my hand clearly states that I didn't make it up.

I didn't come up with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I am, however, accepted.

Accepted in the very school I fancied had come from the depths of my own mind.

But no.

I--Joanne Rowling, age eleven as of yesterday--am going to be--and, I suppose, _am_--a witch.

A witch.

A magical witch.

Yes, indeed--I was odd.


	2. Hogwarts Sorting

**LALABABEE A/N: I wrote this chapter, and if mustardgirl1128 doesn't like it, she is going to tell me so I can rewrite it, right Lola? ;) I don't know if this is how I should do it, so I'll rewrite it if anyone has any ideas!!!!**

**MUSTARDGIRL1128 A/N: For the record, Emily, I LOVED it. I hope everyone else does, too!**

"Granger, Hermione!" The professor called. I gasped as the girl stood up nervously and walked to the old hat, which was part of _my_ story. Everything here was the same, even Hermione. This place copied my book and the characters!

Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor, and the next name was called. After a while, I relaxed. Maybe it was all a coincidence, I thought. That was until a certain name was called.

"Potter, Harry!" I put my hands in my face. The boy looked exactly like I imagined him. He was put also in Gryffindor, after a long time of talking to the hat, which _also_ happened in my book. I was so shocked. How could they have known?

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I almost didn't hear, "Rowling, Joanne!" Thankfully, I _did _hear it, and I walked nervously to the hat. The hat was slipped on my head, and it covered my eyes.

"Hmmm…" It muttered in my ears. "Your very smart…you'd do well in Ravenclaw…But your very noble and brave…perhaps Gryffindor? No, you wouldn't do well there. In that case, RAVENCLAW!" He (or was it she?) screamed the last word. I hopped off the stool, and walked over to where the Ravenclaws were cheering for me. I smiled and sat next to a pretty girl, who later told me her name as Cho Chang. She kept looking at Harry, and I couldn't blame her. He was a very cute boy…

After an old man, whom I knew was Professor Dumbledore before he even told us, said a brief speech, food magically appeared on the plates on our table. Like everything else, I already knew this was going to happen. What I didn't know was going to happen, however, was my heart beating so fast I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I looked at the Slytherin table and saw a beautiful, pale, blond boy (whom I knew was Draco Malfoy) talking to his friends.

Once everyone was finished eating and Dumbledore made another speech, we followed the prefect for our house common room. I was surprised as I looked at everything. Almost everything was the same. I never wrote about the Ravenclaw common room in my story, however, so I had no idea where I was going.

Soon we were led to the tenth, and we turned right. There was a giant bird who opened it's beak as we approached and, much to our amazement, said in a sweet voice, "Which was first, the phoenix or the flames?" The prefect answered in a confident voice that a circle had no beginning, and the door swung open.

Everything was so amazing. The room was big and circular with arched windows. You could still see the faint outline of the distant mountains in the almost-dark sky. The curtains on the windows were blue and bronze, and the carpet was blue. Looking up, I noticed the ceiling as domed and was painted so that it looked as though a night time sky. Stars were shining down on us, and the lights had to be turned on so we could see. There was a giant eagle painted on the walls next to a large bookcase filled with books. There were large blue and bronze chairs in front of a fire, and they looked very comfortable. Seeing as I didn't mention the Ravenclaw common room in my book, I was surprised. There was also a statue of a beautiful lady, (who was later identified as Rowena Ravenclaw) in white marble. Next to it was a door, which I could only assume led to the dormitories. A couple minutes later, I found out I was right.

The first year girls were led up the stairs on the right, while the boys were led to the left. Once we were up the stairs, we found comfortable looking beds with blue and bronze hangings. In front of each bed was a trunk, which held our clothes. I quickly found mine and changed. Snuggling under my covers, I thought about how odd it was that _I _ended up here. It was very odd.

Oh yes, I thought, drifting off to sleep, I was very odd.


	3. Classes

**A/N: Really, really sorry I've taken so long updating! Please enjoy this chapter!! I know it's rather short…I'm a terrible person!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, and never will, claim to own the series. And naturally, JKR owns herself…**

* * *

Classes. The very thought scared me half to death. Our first class was Potions, with Professor Snape. I hadn't yet perfected his character, but I knew his appearance. I wondered how it would be, experiencing a class I used to be able to manipulate…

The Slytherins were with us in the class. Draco Malfoy…it was hard not to stare, though he kept smirking. His hair, a pale, silvery blonde, his eyes, grey and mysterious; appealing, to be sure. But no, I had to _focus._

Professor Snape had a hooked nose and greasy hair, as I had expected. "Ms. Rowling," he said, his lip curling, "what have you read in your book so far?"

I blinked. _Why me?_ I thought, but then, I _did_ know the book backwards and forwards, so I said, "All of it."

He tutted. "Then what is there to learn?" he asked dangerously.

"I—I don't know, sir. Perhaps technique?"

"Correct!" he said, his ugly face breaking into a smile-like thing, though I found it resembled a grimace, more or less. "We have a worthy Ravenclaw!"

I blinked again, which I'm sure was unattractive, but frankly, he was confusing me. "That question had a correct answer?" I stuttered.

"Of course it did! Everything has a correct answer." And then he began to compliment Draco, who I tried desperately to _forget about_. He was a Slytherin—I was a 'mudblood', and it could never happen.

Only—could it?

* * *

My next class was Transfiguration, taught by Minerva McGonagall, whom I'd come to regard as Minnie half the time. Her character (my favorite, I must admit…) was so well explored that I knew about her mother, her love life, and her secret passion for Firewhisky with Albus late on Friday nights.

Never would she let any of this slip in class, though, so I had to pretend she scared me, like everyone else, and that I didn't know she longed for Mondays, because she had no children, and she loved us like her own.

I had to remind myself _not_ to call her Minnie…

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought.

By then, the class was already half-finished. All I heard Min—no, McGonagall—say was, "Pair up," in her prim way.

I looked around at the Gryffindors, whom we were sharing the class with. To my dismay, I hadn't yet made a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor friend (I'd met a Hufflepuff girl on the train, however) and so I had no partner.

"A—are you Joanne?" asked a nervous voice. I turned quickly.

"Yeah. You're Hermione, right?" I asked, intrigued. I knew that Hermione was muggleborn, smart, and bossy, and that I wanted Hermione and Ron to end up together, and that it would take until Halloween for her to make friends with Ron and Harry, but not much else so far.

She blushed red. "I—I haven't any partner," she said in her quaint, old-fashioned way.

"Neither have I," I responded.

"Miss Granger! Miss Rowling! Get to work!" McGonagall trilled.

"Oh—oh, sorry Professor!" Hermione said, flustered.

"So we're partners, then, Hermione?"

She nodded, still blushing.

She was great. We had only started transforming feathers into quills, but she could do it so fast, I didn't _see _it change.

"See, Joanne? All you do is—" here she flicked her wand—"swish, say the incantations—" here she repeated the words we were taught—"and voila! Your quill."

She beamed at me, and I stared, openmouthed. "How did you _do_ that?"

She giggled at my expression. Then she urged me to "try again, and see the results."

When I did, I gasped in pleasure. "It worked!"

"Of course it did, Joanne!" she said with a confident smile.

"Thanks. And call me Jo."

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.


End file.
